


don't expect you to love me but oh how i wish you would

by agentx13



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Friends to Lovers, sharon carter month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: The first time Steve meets the princess, it’s a disaster.
Relationships: Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Sharon Carter Month





	don't expect you to love me but oh how i wish you would

The first time Steve meets the princess, it’s a disaster.

It starts off innocently enough. His father is called to a meeting with the king. His entire family is invited. His parents are swept one way, and Steve is swept another, finding himself escorted to a nursery, to one room in particular set up like a classroom with desks on one side and a play area on the other. Unlike the rest of the palace, there’s no gilding here. The floors are wood, the walls are painted in bright colors, the rooms – it had never occurred to him that a nursery would take more than one room, but the one in the palace is comprised of almost a whole floor in one wing – are smaller than the great rooms he’d entered through. Each room is dedicated to a different age group, from babies to young teens who aren’t working yet, and the space is serviceable rather than attractive. It’s not made for entertaining the diplomats, and it isn’t made for impressing anyone.

The maid sends him into a room to play, and he’s six, so he agrees with no suspicion. He expects to find a wooden horse or blocks.

Instead he finds the princess. He recognizes her from the portrait in the hall, an image of her held in her father’s lap. She sits at a table, a doll in the chair beside her as she studiously writes. She’s only five. He wants to think of her as a baby, but when she sees him and walks toward him, she’s taller than he is.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never met royalty before. He tries to bow, belatedly tries to curtsy, and ends up getting his feet tangled up and falling over.

She looks down at him and, after a second, offers a hand. “Want to play?”

“Su- yes?”

She looks at him impatiently. He doesn’t know what he said wrong. “What would you like to play?”

He looks around the small room. There are other children all doing their own tasks. He spots a couple playing tag and points. “That.”

She nods and leads the way, asking politely if the two of them can join. They agree, seemingly not in awe of her at all, and they join in.

Steve, in poorer health and not as fast as the others, is very soon It, and the princess is the nearest child. He instantly gives chase, and she turns and runs – straight into the edge of the teacher’s desk, her forehead thunking against the wood.

There’s silence for a second. In that span of time, while her features shift to understanding of what’s happened and the pain begins to register, Steve wonders if he’s dead, if his heart has finally given out and his soul is merely waiting to be carried off.

And then she starts crying. Her face turns red and splotchy, her cheeks become wet with tears. Steve hurries to reassure her and apologize, bobbing around her like a baby bird, too afraid to touch her or get too close, and the teachers scoops her up and makes soothing noises.

“What’s this?” A man sweeps into the room, his clothes more expensive than all the furnishings in this section of the palace, and he plucks the princess from the teacher’s arms. “You’re crying in front of all your friends, Sharon.”

The princess buries her face in his shoulder as the teacher explains.

Steve, red-faced, steps forward. “I’m sorry your Majesty.”

The king looks down at him, but there’s no malice. “No harm done. Children are meant to bump their heads from time to time. Isn’t that right, Sharon?”

She sniffles.

The king shakes his head, seeming amused, and then glances behind him. Steve is mortified to see his father there. “It appears our children have met, Joseph. Why don’t you take yours to your new apartment? Sharon and I have to get ready to greet some guests.”

Steve’s father doesn’t look so amused, and Steve is resigned to what follows. Fortunately, Joseph is too pleased with his promotion to Chief of Security to make it worse than it could be.

* * *

Steve returns to the nursery the next day, finding out that the classrooms for all of the palace children are there. The princess, of course, has tutors on top of their regular teachers, but he’s surprised by how few of the children think of her as the princess at all. Everyone else just calls her Sharon, or Shary, or even Ronnie. Steve can’t bring himself to call her anything but your Highness.

His father works often and doesn’t drink as much; his mother takes up work in the infirmary. Her health improves.

The three of them have a small suite of rooms in the palace. It’s nicer than the nursery, though, and it’s leagues above their home in their old village. 

The children exchange gifts at the holidays. When he’s eight, he’s alarmed to see that Sharon opens all of hers except the one he gave her. He watches nervously, and she finally lifts it so he can see her name written on top.

“I was starting to think you didn’t know it.” Even at seven, she speaks like an adult. She’s still taller than he is, too.

“Of course I know it,” he scoffs.

“You should call me by my name sometime. It’s weird that you don’t. What if there’s another Highness around one day?”

The whole palace knows that her parents have been trying to have more children. They also know her parents have lost all their children before birth or shortly after, save for Sharon. “Maybe then I’ll start calling you by your name,” he says.

“You should start practicing now.”

He frowns at her. “Don’t get bossy with me. I’m older.”

“I’m taller.”

“Don’t make me chase you into a desk, Highness.”

She sets the present down. “I’ll open it when you start using my name,” she says decisively.

She’s stubborn. So is he.

She ends up leaving it unopened until harvest season, when he finally breaks.

* * *

At ten, his father is shipped to the front. Steve and his mother are moved to another apartment, one set aside for the infirmary workers, and even though the dwelling is smaller than before, with less to fear from Joseph, their health and spirits improve.

At fourteen, he’s sent to join his father with the army and learn the ways of being a soldier. As Steve had advanced in the classroom, he’d developed an interest in military history and strategy, but he lacked the real-world experience. He gets more than he’d ever wanted.

He still thinks of the classroom sometimes. Fondly. Studying, reading, playing, wandering around the palace. It takes him a while to realize that he always remembers doing those things with Sharon the most. It takes him even longer to realize that he might not only cherish those memories because he’d enjoyed her company as a friend.

Nothing will come of it, though. Ever. And he tries not to think of those times. Still, on the long nights when it seems there’s no hope, his mind goes back to the palace, to seeing her smiling at him or hearing her tease him, and he feels better. If the memories and daydreams help him feel better, they can’t be so bad, can they?

At seventeen, he receives a letter from Sharon telling him to return as quickly as possible. He rushes to the Capitol in time to hold vigil beside his mother’s bed as she slips away.

* * *

Sharon wonders at what point in the past three years Steve finally got taller than she did. He’s still skinny, and his eyes are sharper, and his features seem more drawn, but he’s now an inch or two taller. And more muscular, too.

She wishes he’d come home for some other reason so she could tease him about it. As it is, she talks to his mother’s coworkers and friends and tries to make things as easy for Steve as possible. His mother, never in the best of health, had drawn up her will years before, along with her burial wishes. Steve follows the cart bearing his mother’s casket, riding his horse as if he’d been born in the saddle. He’s too distracted to look back at her, and she wonders if he realizes they hadn’t talked at all.

She supposes it’s selfish to think like that. She understands he has other concerns. She has other concerns, too. It just would have been nice if they’d talked.

There isn’t time to dwell on it, though. She’s sixteen and technically old enough to be married off. The country is at war, and her father is desperate for peace. He’s also desperate for an heir, and it’s becoming increasingly evident that Sharon may be the only option. As such, her education has expanded to the point that she accompanies her parents as they meet with ambassadors. Gone are the innocent, content days of the nursery. She now knows of the threats behind every new policy, every law, how a smile can mask evil intentions. She’ll never have Steve’s battlefield experience, but she learns to read and predict strategy with skill that pleases her teachers. Her political studies intensify. She does well, but she suspects it may never be enough to make her parents happy they had only a daughter.

“We will make peace,” the ambassador says one day, “in exchange for these concessions.” He has a servant hand over parchments to her father, and her father frowns over them.

“I must discuss this with my advisors,” he says at last, setting the parchments on the table.

Sharon pulls them closer and begins reading through.

“My king says the offer will only last for two hours.”

Sharon sets the first parchment aside. There’s no way her father can agree to these terms. Given up their most fertile land is an outrageous demand on its own, but to give up several port cities, too, would beggar the country within a decade.

“With so little time,” her father says, “he cannot expect us to truly consider it.”

“Of course not, father,” she says. “They want the war to go on. So long as they’re winning, at least. Which they currently are.” She sets the last of the parchments aside and leans back in her chair, thinking.

“We all want peace, Sharon.” His voice is patient, but there’s a hint of warning to it. She is speaking out of turn.

She won’t stop, either. Her father has a tendency to play safe and stop short. But she doesn’t think they can afford that right now. She looks at the ambassador. “This is the offer of a king who knows defeat is imminent. You’re trying to pressure us into surrender while you have the upper hand, but this offer implies you know you won’t have that upper hand for much longer. We do not need your insulting two hours. We decline.”

The ambassador smiles at her. “You do not have the power to decide that, your Highness.”

Sharon smiles back. “No. But let’s find out what I can do with what little power I have, shall we?” She takes back a piece of paper and writes a quick note at the bottom of the page before handing it back to his servant. “You may take that to your king. You and all your party would be wise to leave until you can return with a real offer.”

The ambassador reads the note and chokes on a cough. “This is no language for a lady!”

“It’s language for a princess and our king’s only heir. Which I am, in case you forgot.” She gets to her feet. “Father. Let our security remove our guests. We need to see to more important business.” She sweeps out, her mind already on the battle maps as her father hurries after her, lecturing her all the while. A servant opens the door to his war room, and she steps inside.

She isn’t surprised to find General Phillips there, nor the spymaster, Fury. She gives them a nod and ignores her father as she tells them the rival kingdom is frightened enough to push them to surrender.

Fury frowns at her. “They could just want an excuse to make the war last longer. You might have played right into their hands.”

She moves to the maps on the walls. “I don’t think so.” She ignores the doubt in her mind. What is their enemy worried about that they don’t know? Or is it true that she played right into their hands?

Maybe it’s not something that’s going to happen now, she reasons, but soon. Her eyes trace the border of the countries. She studies what they know of the supply trains, of the enemy’s terrain, of the weather for the past year.

She points to different parts of the map. “There were late rains with the harvest. Could their crops have gone to rot?” Her finger trails to the coast. “Our navy reports that those who have gone on some of the enemy’s ships have come down with fever and skin rashes. Could they be worried about a plague outbreak?” She moves her finger to their capitol. “Their king was injured last year and reports say he’s recovered fully. What if he hasn’t? His son is ill-qualified for the military. But gaining what they ask us to cede will give him glory for decades.” She turns to Fury. “How quickly can you find out?”

“A week,” he says, rubbing his beard. “Maybe less.”

She nods. “As quickly as possible, please. General, I’d like you to send word to the troops that the enemy is in the last throes of death. There is hope of victory; all we must do is be wary of the thrashes of a dying animal.”

Phillips glances at her father, but when her father doesn’t respond, he bows to Sharon and exits.

Slowly, her father sinks into a chair. “You believe you’re right.”

“I do.”

“I almost believe you.” He sighs. “You noticed they didn’t ask for your hand.”

“Why would he need my hand when he has all my power?” She clasps her hands together. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping for a marriage alliance.”

“I know you weren’t.” His tone is dry. He rubs his chin. “You know, I had an older sister. Your aunt. I always thought she’d make a much better ruler than myself. I’m not a good ruler.”

“Nonsense, father.”

“No, no. No nonsense. This war has been going on for too long. There’s evidence the military is attempting a coup, and I know they can’t do that on their own, which means one of my own advisors is helping them.”

Sharon frowns at him. “You never mentioned this.”

“Some troubles are too much for you.” He grimaces. “Or so I thought.” He smiles softly. “I may have underestimated you.”

She looks away. “I have a responsibility to my country.” She hesitates. “I hope you don’t do keep such information from me again.”

He laughs. “That might be the most diplomatic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“It’s up there,” she admits. She looks back to the maps, then turns to the large table in the room, a model of the battlefields, complete with hills and valleys and streams made to scale.

Her father stands. “If you’re right, what’s your plan?”

“To contact someone we can trust, and turn that to our advantage. Root out the traitor. Bring peace to the realm?”

“If you tell anyone else the plan, sound firmer on that last part.”

* * *

Steve receives a letter in a batch of dispatches from home. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, but when he opens it, there’s another letter inside in handwriting he _does_ recognize. He reads over it, his frown turning thoughtful, and then prepares for the battle that might end the war once and for all.

* * *

He returns to the Capitol a hero; Sharon oversees parts of the ceremony to welcome him and the army home herself. Flower petals are spilled over the military from rooftops, people wave flags along the streets, and Sharon and her parents await to award them their medals.

She’s as surprised as anyone when Steve, halfway through the ceremony, tackles her to the ground. Before she can understand or become upset, she sees the blood from his shoulder, the way he’s gritting his teeth in pain. She’s quickly spirited off by Fury, but she finds her way to the infirmary nonetheless.

When he wakes, he grimaces. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“Actually, I was hoping to propose to you.”

He tries to push himself up with one hand. “Propose what?”

“Marriage.”

He falls back onto the bed. He stares at her. “What? I could have just sworn-” He looks for a nurse. “The medicines have gotten stronger than when Mother worked here.”

“Marriage,” she repeats, speaking slowly. “The thing where people get married. With a wedding.”

He stares at her some more.

“It would be politically advantageous.”

“For you or me?” His voice has an edge to it.

“Both. Frankly, there’s no one else available I trust to marry me and not kill me shortly thereafter.”

He frowns. “When you say it like that…”

She forces a grin. “I also need to consolidate power with the military.”

“You’re too romantic, truly.”

“A lack of romance comes with being the short one in the relationship. The first time one of us chased the other, you chased me into a table.”

He grunts. “That’s because you weren’t watching where you were going.” He bites his lip but doesn’t look at her. “Let me think about it.”

That’s Steve’s way of saying “No.” She shoves down her feelings and makes sure her face betrays nothing as she stands. “Friends, at least?”

“Always.”

* * *

Fury catches Pierce less than two days after the assassination attempt. As much as he’d been clever enough to hide evidence of his crimes, his cohorts hadn’t been as smart. Their actions are quickly tied to Pierce, and Pierce is arrested and thrown into the dungeons to wait for his trial.

“I suppose you won’t need to consolidate your power with the military any longer,” Steve says, leaning against a pillar with his hands in his pockets. In the distance, Pierce’s lawyers are fleeing court, having lost their final appeal.

“I wouldn’t say I _need_ to.” She stands nearby and watches Pierce’s lawyers retreat. “I suppose the military has no interest in being a political pawn.”

“The military in question does prefer being treated as a person,” he confirms. He watches her curiously. “Why me? Really.”

She doesn’t answer right away. “Because you wouldn’t get in my way.”

He shakes his head.

“Because I’m good at what I do and I think you respect that enough not to sideline me. You don’t treat me like I’m a pawn. It will play well with the people and we could use the good will. I think we could work well together.”

“But you don’t love me,” he says slowly.

“You don’t love me,” she counters, not looking at him. “I don’t expect you to. My father didn’t take a mistress, but no one will judge you if you do.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

She doesn’t answer.

He straightens and prepares to leave.

“I don’t want anyone else,” she chokes out.

He freezes and turns toward her.

“I don’t want anyone else,” she repeats. “I think you’d be a good king, and a good husband, and a good father, and- I don’t know if you’d be happy. I want you to be happy, but I can’t promise you would be. If you- If you- I want you to be happy. I want you to be with me. I want you to _want_ to be with me. I understand if you don’t. But-” She shakes her head and wipes at her cheeks, frustrated that tears had slipped out. Why? She almost never cried.

Awkwardly, he steps forward. Even more awkwardly, he wraps his arms around her.

She buries her face in his shirt. She’s not certain she’ll get another chance.

She’d been too distracted during the assassination attempt, but he has a nice scent. A bit of soap, a bit of the lavender detergent the launderer uses, but also something else.

“I’ve only ever known you to get hugs when you cry,” he says thoughtfully. “We should fix that.”

She looks up at him in surprise. “Do you mean-”

He looks down at her. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Yes. I… I might- I’ve liked you for a while now. Like, _liked_ you more than I ought, maybe.”

“So you didn’t protect me just because you’re a friend or a loyal citizen?”

“I’m those, too.” The corner of his lip curls just the slightest bit. “But I had other reasons.” He looks at her again, and swallows, almost a gulp. “I feel like I should court you first.”

“Court away,” she says, her voice sounding far away and dreamy and unrecognizable. “Should I propose again or leave it a standing offer?”

His curled lips turn into a straight-out grin. “Ask me again. I want to watch.”

She can’t decline; he’s earned it, after all.

* * *

She asks again months after he’s grown more comfortable with her and stops dropping things whenever her father is around.

He says yes.

Her parents live long enough to see two of her children’s births. By the time they pass, it’s understood that Sharon is the power behind the throne, with Steve quickly becoming a power beside her.

Sharon was right to warn him that leading the country is tough, and he was right to take time to consider the ramifications in saying yes. But as their reign stretches and they have more children and make alliances and guide their country into a golden age, they can both say that, separately and together, they are happy.


End file.
